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pellucid-constellations · 4 months

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Only in Dreams

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of injuries

a/n: Hi this is my first acotar fic idk what I'm doing. I've been reading them for years so here's a little one for fun <3 I know it's different from my usual but inspiration is a finicky creature :) Also, italics denote flashbacks.

There was very little Azriel wouldn’t do for his mate.

He had learned that early on.

In those early days, when the bond had made itself known to only him, there was so much confusion and strife within the shadowsinger. He had known you for decades, admired you from afar, and befriended you under self-made pretenses. You were a light, a healer, too good and sweet to be anything to him other than a friend, a coworker.

But you were also his mate.

The air had been knocked from his lungs at the realization.

“Is everything okay?” you had asked, sweet confusion bunching at your brows.

And Azriel couldn’t answer, not for several long beats.

“Az, what’s wrong? You look like Cassian after he took that weird herb Majda wanted me to test.”

Another bout of silence, this time accompanied by soft, warm hands along his cheeks. You leaned in, the sweet scent knocking him out of his stupor. As he jerked back, you only followed, blinking in surprise.

“Azriel—”

“I apologize,” he finally—weakly—stammered out. “I was talking with Rhys.”

“You were talking with Rhys?”

It hadn’t sounded much like a question, but Azriel nodded anyways, enraptured by you and your closeness. He needed to get away, to leave. You were too close. He was too weak.

But then you giggled, and the sound was so melodic and saccharine that he found himself breathless again. He could get lost in that sound. If he was being honest with himself, he had gotten lost in that sound plenty of times before. But now… now. Gods, now you were his mate.

As you laughed some more, teasing retorts echoing in the air, Azriel knew you had no idea.

And, as Azriel had learned, that was fine. You didn’t need to know. Because he knew, and that was enough.

Enough for the overwhelming devotion he felt for you to finally have substance. To finally be validated.

You were his—everything sweet and good was his to protect. And, gods, did he want to protect you.

You made that very difficult in the weeks after the bond had snapped for him. His instincts were in overdrive, taking note of your every move and praying to the cauldron that you were careful when he was sent on missions and you stayed back in Velaris. He had nothing to worry about when that was the case. The inner circle loved you almost as much as he did.

But then Rhys decided you were needed.

With an unreciprocated mating bond and a mate that cared so little for her own self-preservation, that had been Azriel’s worst nightmare.

“Reconsider.”

“There is nothing to reconsider, Azriel. We need a healer in Windhaven to show them that the clipping won’t be seen to fruition. And y/n just so happens to be our court healer,” Rhys carefully explained for the third time.

“Send Majda.”

Rhys held the bridge of his nose. “There is a reason y/n took over her post. Madja is far too old to be making those kinds of trips.”

“Send anyone else,” Azriel rasped, a tightness to his words.

“No. She is the best. It will only be for a few weeks and Cassian—”

“Rhysand.”

Rhys paused at the desperation laced within his brother’s tone. He removed the fingers attempting to abate the ache along his temple and observed Azriel’s clenched fists and restless shadows. Rhys’s lips parted in shock, his eyes blinking in quick succession. Something clicked within his gaze.

“Is she…”

The muscle in Azriel’s jaw quivered. “Just don’t send her there. Please.”

Rhys raised a hand to run down his jaw. “My gods, Azriel. This is…this is—does she know?”

“No,” he replied, quick and low.

“I understand what you’re feeling, but I can’t stop her. You know that, brother.”

And, unfortunately, Azriel knew that.

When you set your mind to something—when you knew you were going to help people—that was it. There would be nothing keeping you from helping those in need. Especially the Illyrian women. Azriel was pretty sure you kept a dartboard somewhere in the house with Lord Devlon’s face on it.

He loved that about you, truly he did. But it also made you reckless.

There were plenty of instances where you burned yourself out from healing. You would come home swaying on your feet or be so depleted you couldn’t even winnow correctly. He could count on two hands the amount of times you passed out at the dinner table after work. When he thought about you doing that in Windhaven… Azriel couldn’t even stomach the thought.

“Then order her,” Azriel gritted out. He could hear you coming. You and Cassian, bags packed, chatting down the hall about something insignificant.

Why couldn’t he come, again?

Right, because he would “stir up the camp” or whatever obtuse reason Rhys had given him.

“You know that won’t go over well,” Rhys countered.

“Neither will the entirety of Windhaven if she gets hurt.”

Azriel’s threat fell on deaf ears as you came bounding into the room, bright and determined and smiling at him as if you weren’t leaving.

“Here to see us off, Az?”

That trip to Windhaven had been awful—for Azriel and for you. Rhys’s “ordering” hadn’t been effective, and neither had Cassian’s ability to pick up on context clues. As you stood, baffled at Rhys’s sudden change in plans, Cassian didn’t so much as look at Azriel’s subtle vies for assistance. Because Cassian had been just as baffled as you were.

So, you went to Windhaven.

And then you came home hurt.

Not terribly, just a few cuts and a black eye that rivaled his own from the last time he trained with the Valkyries.

Cassian explained that there had been a fight unrelated to you, but you had gotten caught up in it. He suspected it was a ploy to get hands on you, but Azriel had stopped listening to him the second you landed on the balcony with stitches on your forehead. The moment he saw your hands bandaged and your eye purple and blue.

You had laughed about your inability to fight, knocking an injured hand into Cassian’s side as he jested that it was time for you to get into the training ring with him. Later, Azriel would agree with that sentiment. In that moment, however, unparalleled fear had coursed through his veins. Rhys was the only one ready for it.

Cassian’s back slammed into the far wall of the house, wings splaying out against stone. Azriel’s shadows were gone as he held his brother against the wall, abandoning him in favor of wrapping around your wounds.

Azriel thought he heard you scream.

“You said you would protect her!” he seethed, pushing his forearm against Cassian’s throat, blue siphon blazing atop his hand.

“Azriel, stop!” Your call went unheard. Rhys stood ground in front of you, arm jutting out when you tried to get around him.

Cassian pushed back against him, face twisted in confusion. “I did. I pulled her from that fight as soon as I could, Az. You think—” his words cut off with another shove from his brother “—you think I would have let anything happen to her on purpose?”

Azriel growled, low and dangerous. “All I think is that my mate came back looking like that when you swore to take care of her. You swore.”

The room went silent, stagnant. Even the shadows halted their appraisal of you as you held onto Rhys’s arm. Cassian stopped fighting. Somewhere down the hall, the rushed footsteps of some other member of the family abruptly stopped.

“She’s your mate?”

“Azriel—” Your whisper was lost in the lingering chaos of the room.

The time after was a blur for Azriel. He knew he left the balcony, retreating to his room hastily after sending you a longing, apologetic glance. He knew you called after him, that you were breathless and shaking and Rhys kept holding you back… telling you to give him some time to cool off.

He didn’t need time. He needed you, and Azriel had been positive that would never happen now.

Half of his shadows joined him in his room, engulfing him as he sat on his bed with his head in his hands. The other half stayed with you, still worried about the pain that you had endured. It was a miracle you hadn’t sent them away. They would have listened to you if you had. They would always listen to you.

When the door creaked, his shadows covered him even more, encasing his fear and worry and embarrassment into a shell that kept him safe.

He was a fool.

“Azriel?”

He had to be imagining the sweet trill of your voice. There was no way you had come for him, not after all of that. But soon, your shoes slinked into the mess of shadows between his legs, and a bandaged hand gently guided his chin up.

When he met your eyes, his shadows circled faster. His wings fell lower and lower against the bed, giving himself up to your gaze.

“Azriel,” you repeated, music within the swish of dark air. “Care to explain, shadowsinger?��

The bruises on your face made his stomach turn. He went to look away, to escape this physical and mental turmoil, but you only locked your wrists and kept him there.

It took him a moment, but he finally relented.

“You are my mate,” he spoke, gravely and unsure—even though that was the one thing Azriel was sure of above all else. “You are my mate and you are hurt. I am sorry for my actions… if I scared you or—”

“I wasn’t asking about the display of male violence on the balcony.” Your teasing smile made some of his shadows rest.

It also made hope swell within the deepest parts of Azriel’s wearied chest.

You didn’t look forlorn at his offhanded declaration, nor did you look repulsed. You just looked like… you. You looked at him as you always had, and maybe that meant something.

Maybe that was something for Azriel to hold onto.

“How long have you known?” you asked, when he spent a moment too long admiring the upturn of your mouth.

Azriel blinked, moving his eyes back to your own. “A while.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” You didn’t sound accusatory, or even angry as he was sure Feyre had all those years ago. You only sounded sad. That made it worse.

“I wanted to tell you,” Azriel stressed, leaning forward on the bed to capture your legs between his. “I wanted to, I just—y/n, I just…”

There was no solid explanation. You didn’t rush him as he stumbled over his words—you were patient, as you always were. You were patient and Azriel was a coward.

Determination set a line in his brow.

“I was a coward,” he affirmed. “I didn’t want to push you away… to make you feel unsure or pressured. You are… you are everything. You have been everything to me for many years now. If I had ruined that—if I had pushed something upon you that you did not want—”

“Has it occurred to you, Azriel, that I would very much like to be your mate?”

Azriel paused his spiel, licking his drying lips as he searched your eyes for the lie.

“Only when I dream.”

You had kissed him after that, all bruised and scratched and broken, and Azriel found himself dreaming.

As he stared at you across the sitting room, surrounded by your raucous, disruptive family, Azriel dreamed again. The glow of the fire lit up the side of your face as you laughed, sending warmth up the long-accepted mating bond, and he dreamed of you in every iteration of his life.

And he would do anything to keep that dream alive.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #azriel

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kiss-inthekitchen · 1 month

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same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him.

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone.

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet.

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum.

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?”

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.”

“Yeah.”

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do.

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics.

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice.

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.”

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.”

“But I think I should be right more often than that.”

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock.

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.”

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?”

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?”

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.”

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while.

“Spence?”

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door.

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.”

“I’m already inside with the door locked.”

“Man, I’m good.”

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already.

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.”

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.”

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.”

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice.

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic.

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does.

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster.

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.”

You laugh. “For the whole day?”

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.”

“Okay, rest day all day.”

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.”

“Maybe the floor.”

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?”

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.”

“Say no more.”

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.”

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?”

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.”

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.”

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke.

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.”

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?”

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.”

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.”

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates.

You let out a little gremlin laugh.

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone.

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’.

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs.

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.”

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’”

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.”

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part.

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.”

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.”

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.”

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.”

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird.

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him.

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice.

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh.

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it.

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes.

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.”

“We did.”

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy.

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him.

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters.

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #my fics #your honor im obsessed with him

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leidensygdom · 1 month

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The ways in which being asexual feels isolating

I've been pondering whether to post this or not, but I figured out I wanted to explain a bit of this experience.

So, I could go on a very long tangent on how being asexual is usually a lonely experience, and how much I've been otherized here and there- Specially in real life. How the same people that claimed to be queer (or allies) had been much weirder about my asexuality than they were about me being bi/pan or whatever.

But I think I wanna talk about how something like that bleeds in every aspect of socializing, even down to something like fandom. I stay away from fandom usually- I like to look at cool fanart and that's about it. I hate discourse, I hate drama, I hate reading people getting worked up because they're treating fanon as canon. But there's one thing I've noticed, over and over, that just sends me off my rails.

And it's how fandom tends to treat asexuality (or aromanticism). So, you get a character in some piece of media that explicitly, unequivocally, states they're either ace, aro, or both. "I do not have interest in a partner", "I don't desire to have sex nor do I enjoy the topic", whatever. And as an ace person, I do appreciate being able to see myself in media- There isn't many chases where something is established that bluntly.

Now, you decide you want to check some fanart for that. Fandoms have this tendency to make absolutely everything about shipping, even when the media they're basing it in does not revolve about that (and it's annoying, because a lot of times people aren't interested in the actual themes- It's all reduced to shipping). Suddenly, you notice people treating the aforementioned character as anything but aro or ace. It's all about shipping. "This person interacted with this other person in a way two friends would, but we gotta make this their entire personality now". Some people may instead go for "well, maybe the character is not having sex, but they're probably an absolute freak about it, studies it extensively, has encyclopedic knowledge about it-"

Now, there's of course sex-favourable aces, and that's completely valid, but it's already straying from what, canonically, the character had mentioned. Asexual or aromantic characters aren't really allowed to exist as themselves. People often see them as a blank slate to fill, to change, to fix. I could talk forever about how people react to real life aces like that. I've had people asking me incredibly invasive questions because they saw my lack of sexual attraction as something broken, something they could fix.

And I hate that! I think I'm allowed to say that I hate that! It's hard and unusual for media to cement an aro/ace character, because they're defined by the lack of interest for something, which is often hard to show. But when it does- No one seems to care. It's all shipping, it's all "well, he's gay in denial", "well, she's probably super repressed". If you took a canonically gay character and made them straight on a fanfic, you'd get angry people. Which is bound to happen when you erase representation that people identify with. But aro/ace characters are NOT even seen as queer, they're not even seen as "representation" by most people. You can erase that bit of it, put some god awful shipping on top, and people will applaud you. And it sucks!

I wish people would see being aro or ace as an identity worth respecting, not an identity that needs overwriting. It feels a bit too close to how people often treat aro/aces irl, and it sucks. It reeks of this sort of exclusionism, where "aro/aces are technically queer but it's queer lite at best, it's less interesting than being gay, and we kinda don't want them near us anyhow". Again, I've had far worse experiences about being ace than I have about not being straight.

Sorry if the post got long, but I hope this experience may at least resonate with other people who have been struggling with this, too. It has always felt just kind of lonely to be ace, and see how little people do even consider it an identity, even when it comes down to something like fandom.

#lgbt #lgbtq #asexual #asexuality #aromantism #aro #ace #aroace #aromanticism #queer #long post

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lionheartedmusings · 3 months

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once again rotating the qsmp and it's depiction of parenthood in my head and yeno i just... it makes me so deeply emotional it's not even funny? i remember conversations about "mothers and fathers" being the true qsmp theme song and i will die on that hill forever.

the thing that i find so poignant about it is that this was (as far as we know) never meant to be the story they were going to tell — the eggs were meant to come and go, a chapter in a story that would be looked back on fondly but one that was firmly over. and yet, the love. oh, the love.

it's so rare in media that we get such a raw and slow perspective of parenthood from the parents' perspective, to see the bonds forming and solidifying from "a responsibility that scares me" to "i would tear the world apart for you" — going back to vods of the first day of the eggs is wild, because they're filled with novelty and interest, but then time passes and we see love blossom.

we see love through grief too, like fit's voice when ramon lost his first life, or bad's screams when dapper had his nightmare, or the grief that came with trump, juana, and tilin's deaths. the desperation and grief of parents is an uncomfortable thing to witness, but in a medium like the qsmp it allows people to explore stories that are sometimes too heavy or too dark to portray in a less "goofy" medium.

we watched people's focus shift to their children as they embraced parenthood, especially in the face of loss, and we saw them accept truths that aren't pretty: if the eggs are there to manipulate them, okay. if they're a way for the federation to control them? fine. it doesn't matter, they're their children. they won't let go of them, not even if they're ultimately a means to keep them subdued.

the only time we've seen these characters truly lose their shit and rebel properly was when the eggs went missing, and that says so much. they'll almost accept losing their autonomy, but they won't lose their children.

it's been almost a year of the eggs, and they're the center of everything. every event, every game, every day — eggs are always the focus, whether it be in a "we need to protect them" way or a "i wonder what they want to do today" way. it's all about those kids.

meanwhile, we get to see these people be scared shitless, not have answers, be lost and confused half the time and not knowing how to handle every situation — they try their best, but time and time again they fumble and say the wrong thing, and have to apologise and try to do better next time.

it's so fucking beautiful, man. we see a day-to-day experience of parenthood and family (government assigned, found, chosen) that shows and movies can't give us because they're not a daily, breathing, on-the-go medium where we get to follow this one (or multiple bc none of us have lives) character through just... life.

in having this opportunity, we're privy to one of the most honest, human, and poignant depictions of parenthood and maturing that i've ever seen. we get to live this journey with these characters, and i'd bet a lot of money that that's part of why we're all so deeply attached to the eggs too.

long story short, storytelling is so fucking awesome and sometimes the most beautiful stories happen by accident.

#qsmp #i just #IT GENUINELY MAKES ME EMOTIONAL #ALEXA PLAY MOTHERS AND FATHERS #fuck

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axeoverblade · 10 months

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Celoso

Earth 1610 Miles x fem! reader

Synopsis! Miles cut ties with you, his best friend of nearly ten years, when he decided to not so kindly tell you the way you felt about him was how he felt about Gwen. Now weeks later when you show up with a new guy, he couldn’t help but feel a covetous pit of envy burrowing deep inside his body.

MASTERLIST

Genre: angst(? not really), suggestive bits

Warnings: Mature!, foul language, toxic on every end, mentions of cheating

Word count: 2k

Authors commment: unedited and poorly written scrap fic from a while ago but I really liked this piece of it so I’m publishing it. One shot no second part. Enjoy <3

It had been months since Miles had spoken to you. His parents were concerned. They kept asking where you were, Miles would just sigh and say you had been busy.

I mean it wasn't his fault, he just didn't feel the same way you felt. Why was he being punished for that, for liking Gwen instead of you? Granted, he could’ve been a little nicer in his delivery. Who was he kidding, he could’ve been a hell of a lot nicer, but it was too far gone to change it now.

You just wouldn't get it. You have been his best friend since infancy. With you everything felt familiar, safe even. But with Gwen, he felt alive. Why was that so wrong, why wasn’t he allowed to be happy with who he wanted to be with?

He continued living his life as usual as he could make it. Still saving New York, still being Spiderman, still being Miles, just as life would be if he never met you. The ordinary.

Something that wasn't ordinary, was Gwen visiting. His dads party was happening, and even though he had just gotten into a big fight with his parents, he still wanted to go up and introduce her.

It didnt take long for Mrs.Morales to hate Gwen. Rio was furious, I mean the girl had the nerve to call her by her first name! You would never do that. Plus this girl looked old enough to vote.

This was not someone Miles should be hanging out with, especially over you.

So Rio took it upon herself to invite you. She hadn't seen you in a long time anyway, so she missed “the daughter she never had”. Knowing Miles would have to see you and eventually fix whatever happened between the two of you was just a bonus.

…

When you walked through the door to the roof a little while after she sent you that text, Rio squealed with delight.

“Jeff, papi mira! It’s Y/n” she saw a gift in your hand, something Gwen did not bring. “Ah! Y/n Mija! ¡Es muy bueno verte! Cómo está?” “Good Mrs.Morales, thank you for asking. How have you been? Sorry for not visiting, I've been busy.” “nonsense chiquita, I’m so happy you could make it, venir, venir! Come say hi! Everyone has missed you!” You gave a curt nod, preparing yourself for all the questions from the big familia and more importantly, seeing Miles.

Rio paused, seeing a tall, attractive, dark skin boy with dreads behind you, holding your hand. She looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, “Quién es ese” you pretended not to hear her, instead walking next to him behind her as she went further into the party.

After a couple of minutes of reuniting with all of the family, you saw Jeff and gave him his present. He thanked you, “Hey you know the girl Miles is with?” You looked around, still not seeing him. You shook your head no.

Jeff noticed the boy you were with was now holding your waist with one hand, standing next you. He side eyed him questionably. Jeff could’ve sworn you would only let Miles hold you like this, hating intimate acts physical touch from anyone but his son. Who was this guy who had won you over?

“Miles,” Rio paused looking at Gwen, “and uh you too I guess, Guess whos here! Come say hi! ” Rio told miles, pulling him with Gwen following over to whoever his mom wanted him to see. “Whos here mami-” He was cut off by the sight of Y/n talking to his father, and some random-, holding your waist?

He furrowed his eyebrows, who in the hell is that?

“Ay! Y/n look who!” Rio pushed her son forward so you could see him. He looked back displeased at his moms antics before turning to face you. Miles stared at you awkwardly, “Uh, hey.” You nodded at him with pursed lips.

The girl you had seen in all the drawings appeared next to him, no doubt this was girl he liked instead of you.“Uh-Hi! I'm Gwen!” She stuck her hand out, you looked at it before just nodding, causing her to drop her hand embarrassed, “Y/n”.

Rio smirked, happy you didn't like her either.

“So who are you?” Miles asked looking at the guy holding your waist, a little more aggressive in his tone than he needed to be. Miles watched as the guy raised an eyebrow mockingly at Miles. “Dre, nice to meet you”. Dre stuck his hand out, Miles to look him up and down ignoring the gesture. Dre dropped his hand, smirking lousily at Miles' expression.

Miles couldn't help but notice Dre was about an inch taller than him.

He didnt like that.

“Um, so how do you two know each other?” Gwen asked, looking between you and dre.

“I'm her boyfriend”

Miles unconsciously pulled his head into his neck, making the most aggressive stank face known to man. “Since when” he scowled, trying to hide the attitude in his voice. He wasn’t hiding it very well. Dre responded for you, “few weeks ago, why?”.

“huh” miles nodded ignoring the question, clearly annoyed. Dre kissed your shoulder, smirking harder, almost a full blown grin making its way to his face at miles expression. Miles's spider senses involuntarily made him aware of your heartbeat speeding up as you blushed, slightly giggling to yourself.

Miles had no clue why this bothered him so much. I mean he was right next to Gwen, the girl of his dreams. You being with this wannabe Luka Sabbat really shouldn't have bothered him so much. And why was your heart beating so quick from him kissing your shoulder? You didnt actually like this bum for real did you?

Feeling Miles prying eyes, you looked at him skeptically before turning to dre. “Well-uh we better get going before were late. Congrats Captain Morales,” you looked at Jeff and smiled lightly. “Um nice to meet you Gwen,” she nodded, grinning nicely. You turned to Rio “it's always nice to see you Mrs.Morales, contact me if ever need help with anything.” “Yes mija. Thank you for stopping by.” You finally turned to Miles,

“Miles”

“Y/n”

Gwen stared between the two of you confused. What was that?

tap! tap! tap!

You groaned at the sound coming from your window. Covering your head with her blanket trying to ignore the noise, you pretended to be asleep.

The taps soon turned to knocks causing you to groan louder “Dre hold on I heard you” you got up begrudgingly leaving the comfort of your bed to open the window.

“-oh, it's you." Opening the glass surprised, you allowed Miles in. Miles stared you up and down, taking note of the fact you were in nothing but a big tee, a big tee he had never seen before.

“Why is he coming to your room through the window?” He questioned, towering over you. “Miles what are you talking about?-”. “You thought it was Dre at your window right? No te hagas la mudo y/n. Why is he coming through your window, especially this late at night.”

“I dont see how that is any of your concern. We havent spoken in weeks and you wanna pretend you care what's going on in my life, on my time? Nah, that's not how that works.” Miles scoffed. “Whos shirt is that y/n- cause I know it's not yours.” “Its Dre’s, but that none of your business-” “What is he? Some rebound?” He laughed sardonically. “I mean there's no way you even really like the dude, you just liked me!” You scoffed, “Not everything is about you miles, this has nothing to do with you, I moved on.” he looked at you “Estás mintiendo”. “Oh yea? What makes you think that huh? Y-you think i'm so stuck on you that i can't move on from- what? Some stupid crush on you? Get over yourself Miles-” “tu latido” he whispered. “What?” “Your heartbeat y/n, I know you're lying ‘cause your heartbeat.” You looked at him blanky, hiding the shock in your face as he stepped closer to you, leaving a small gap between you two.

“I can feel it, Sé tú mi amas.”

He gently grabbed your neck, leaning down to kiss you. Your eyes widened before closing. Embracing the moment, you wrapped your arms around Miles' neck. Your mouth parted slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Feeling your knees buckle, Miles took his free hand and placed it on your backside, effectively stabilizing you. He could sense you, all of you.

Your heart was beating the fastest it ever had. He could feel your chest rising and falling as you struggled to breathe through your nose. Your pheromones were at their strongest. He smirked into the kiss, loving the effect he had on you.

This is wrong. You had a boyfriend, sure only for only about a month but you did still have one. And you were cheating on him with Miles of all people. Your lips shouldn’t have fit together like puzzle pieces, chest rising and falling at the same time with your hearts beating in sync. It was natural, like you were meant for each other.

But he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his.

You knew you should stop. You should end this before it got too far, before it got to a point beyond something an apology could fix.

But if this was so wrong,

¿Por qué se sintió tan bien?

You sat on your bed anxiously, zoned out at staring at the ceiling. It had been two days since the…incident.

Miles' tongue fought for dominance with yours. He guided you over to your bed, hands roaming all over you body needingly. You slightly tripped falling back onto the edge of the mattress, still kissing him passionately as he leaned over you. He stabilized himself putting his knee between your legs, placing his hands on either side of you. Your hands were woven into his curls, slightly pulling on them causing him to groan in the kiss. His tongue won, exploring your mouth as it pleased.

ring! ring! ring!

You pulled away from miles, a string of saliva visibly attaching the two of you as you moved further away. You breathed heavily as you looked at the user ID calling you.

DREBAE<3 is calling!

…

answer-decline

You stared at the phone wide eyed. From your expression Miles knew exactly who had called you. “no respondas eso y/n.” Miles said sternly, so close you could feel his breath tickling your neck. The way he said it seemed less like a statement and more like an ultimatum. You looked up at Miles, your chest rising and falling quickly.

“...Hello baby?” you said as you put it on speaker staring at Miles, still trying to catch your breath. Miles scoffed looking at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Hey mami” Miles looked at the phone in your hand with pure disgust. Who did this guy think he was giving you that nickname? Did he even speak spanish? “I need you, real bad” Dre said breathily through the phone, causing your eyes to go wider than they already were. Miles however, became very irritated. Who in the hell did this guy think he was? And why haven’t you hung up the phone yet?

Miles quickly got up, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. It was clear who your choice was. He scoffed, walking back over to your window . To him it didn’t matter what he said you to a few months ago, that he chose someone else over you. Or the fact you had a boyfriend who had every right to call you.

It was the fact it was only you and him right now, and you didn’t choose him. He suddenly felt the feeling you must’ve experienced when he did this to you. And damn did it hurt.

Miles stared at your figure, an unreadable look in his eye. Going back through your window with one last glance at you, he shut it with a slam. “What was that baby?” Dre asked through the phone.

“uhm.. Just the wind I think.”

©axeoverblade

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p0rk-guts · 2 months

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Velvette if she served cunt

Design breakdown below 👇🏾(BEWARE IT'S VERY LONG)

Alright going into detail about my gripes and edits. Like Velvette but her design is just. Not good to me. None of her (main) outfit details look like they fit to me— pinstripe pants + long fur coat paired with black crop top and scene sleeves? Skull earrings? TINKERBELL HEELS????? Tell me how any of that meshes well or even makes SENSE for the social media influencer persona she's supposed to have going on. Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be clown themed... But I'm just gonna toss that idea out bc being a revered social media influencer and a clown at the same time just seems a bit oxymoronic to me, and the "clown" details aren't adding shit for me.

And don't think I forgot about her features. Pale ash grey skin and wavy hair at best. If she was supposed to be some type of creature where a nonhuman skin tone would make sense then maybe I could let it go?? But as far as I can tell she doesn't have an object or creature or animal theme like the other V's and if she does I shouldn't need to do detective work to figure it out. There is no reason for *any* of these poc characters to have grey skin, especially since they don't have any other poc features at all.

Sorry that shit gets me heated anyways. Onto my redesign. Gave her a more obviously black skin tone and textured hair bc I love a 30 inch buss down as much as the next girl but considering how there are no significant poc cast members with visibly textured hair I think she deserves to flaunt some coils if no one else will.

Ngl I'm not. A fashion girlie. Idk what's trendy idk what screams "influencer" so a lot of this was just throwing shit at the wall that I've seen around recently but it looks cute enough to me. And there was a bit of inspiration taken from Aliyahcore and ghetto fabulous fashion ❤️

If you can't tell this is shamefully inspired by lovesart23's Velvette reimagining because imo they had some outstanding ideas for Vel. I low-key stole their idea for those floating eyes in her hair that follow her around and help her keep tabs on shit it was just a superb idea for a social media overlord to me. I also took some inspo from @furbtasticworksofart 's redesign because vampire influencer sucking up the souls of her followers in exchange for content??? Too good (also the eyes were supposed to have bat/vamp wings I just forgot 😭) So yeah she's a vampire demon now. Without the features she was looking too human anyhow. Maybe she also feeds off of the energy of her followers through tech like after Vox mind controls them or whatever... Idk idk is that anything

Speaking of Vox, the screen glasses are meant to connect her to him w/ their color and shape while serving the purpose of being like a second phone she can post and check the web with. Like lovesart said in their reimagining vid, Vel doesn't really do more than pose for selfies and scroll on her phone when it comes to social media so in my head she's constantly flipping her shades on and off, using them to scroll and stay active, and they can show when she's not paying attention or respect to something/someone bc scrolling is more worth her time in the moment.

The hearts everywhere are also supposed to kinda represent social media likes + connect her back to Val w/ his heart patterns. That might've been what the hearts in her og design were for but. I just didn't like their placement bc I'm a nitpicker and a hater❕

I have so much more I could say about possible ideas for Velvette because I love evil black girls and I only want them to succeed in my media and I could treat her so much BETTER but I'll refrain bc this is way too long anyway.

Alright for reading/scrolling through all that rambling I offer you the sketches + some alt hair ideas I had

P.S. I'm very open to constructive criticism but if I see anyone just dick riding in my replies or rb's I'm just blocking you on sight ✌🏾

#hazbin hotel #velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette redesign #hazbin hotel redesign #my art #digital art #character design

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tealgoat · 2 months

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Writing from @felikatze !!!

The Favor Tree. Not something uniquely Vaugardian, mind you. Plenty of powerful trees are strewn about Ka Bue as well, but this one *is* Vaugardian, and so you'd like to wish on one at least once, for completion's sake.

What to wish for, though? You can wish for Vaugarde to be saved, of course. But, in all likelihood, everyone in Dormont already has, so what will your wish even accomplish, then? The logical part of you wants to make it a test. Something simple to see whether these wishes have any merit to them.

If they don't, you'll save Vaugarde by your own strength. If they do, a little help goes a long way.

Right, something simple it shall be. A coin flip. You'll wish to win your next coin flip.

You clasp your hands together like Mirabelle does, close your eyes, and

"That's not how you wish, Madam!"

"...Siffrin?"

With quick strides, Siffrin catches up to her. Hadn't they meant to go later? Oh, in her dwadling, Isabeau already left.

Siffrin smiles with curiosity next to you, and you untangle your hands. "What'd you wish for?" they ask.

"Nothing yet. After someone so rudely interrupted me." You say it with a sarcastic tilt.

Siffrin mirrors you after a beat. He looks around. "So rude! We gotta find the culprit! Oh, maybe they're hiding up in the tree. It's pretty..."

You know what's coming.

"TREE-mendous, after all!"

Despite yourself, you snort.

"So, my brave hero, if that's not how you wish, how do you do it then?"

"Uh!" Siffrin startles. "Uh!" He bends to the ground and picks up... a leaf?

"Here!" They hold the leaf out to you. You try to grab it, but they snatch it back. "No! First, pick the leaf you like best. That best represents you."

You don't know anything about Siffrin's past. Or where they're from, at all. So if he's sharing this piece of tradition... it won't hurt to humor him.

Your knees seriously don't like bending down like that. Instead of grabbing the first leaf you see, you ponder them for a little bit. Eventually, you decide on one that's a little longer than the others, with an odd bend in its tip.

"This one." You push yourself off the ground. It is. A struggle. Siffrin offers you a hand. You take it without aknowledgement. "What next?"

Siffrin puts a hand on his chin and squints, as he does when forgetting something. What, did they forget in the middle of showing her?

No, Siffrin proceeds by instinct. They bring the leaf up to their mouth and whisper far too softly for Odile's aging ears. Then, he folds the leaf and lets it go.

It drifts on the wind, higher and higher, until it disappears into the trees.

"There. Whisper your wish into it three times, fold it, and let it go."

"I've never seen a Vaugardian do that."

Siffrin seems lost. "It's not... It's..."

You drop the subject. "Why thrice?"

"That's just... the way to do it? You can also do six and nine, I think, and seven and thirteen."

"Multiples of three and prime numbers?"

"Prime numbers?"

"Forget it. Alright."

You hold the leaf to your face, curling it to speak into. A simple, logical wish, to test the Favor Tree. That'd seems rude now, after Siffrin shared part of his culture with you.

Something better. Something... genuine. And that's the hard part, isn't it? You have a reputation to uphold. It's easier that way. Like... like you don't care how much Siffrin's eye sparkles right now, waiting with bated breath.

It'll be easier to leave them again. Bonnie will go to their sister, Isabeau to the Defenders, Mirabelle to the House, and Siffrin...

Siffrin is a traveler too, is he not? Maybe the others won't go with you, but you could show them Ka Bue. Teach them how to pray at shrines, about all the different foods you ache for, all the culture you left to find something new. Despite it all, Ka Bue was your home, and... you'd like to share it with them, if you can.

Ah, you just want to stay with them.

You fold the leaf, and it leaves on the breeze.

"Hah."

"Madame?"

"You're rubbing off on me, Siffrin."

You pat them on the shoulder. Siffrin freezes. Until your hand leaves them again.

"My apologies, Siffrin."

It's quite silly to think they'd go with you after all.

#in tales of time au #in tales of time #edit #first pics just an edit the others are my art tho lol #my art #the leafs stem is meant to kinda be her stupid tall pants #in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #in stars and time fanart #isat fanart #isat odile #isat siffrin #odile loops au #isat au

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thot-of-khonshu · 6 months

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bell bottom blues (joel miller x f!reader)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Summary: you're the town seamstress and you've had a crush on joel miller for ages. when he gifts you a pair of bell bottoms, you go to his house and finally confess your feelings leading to a night of whiskey and fun. Inspired by the song 'bell bottom blues' by eric clapton/derek and the dominos

Rating: M, 18+

Word count: 6.5K

Content: a fluffy smut, if you will. shy joel, joel playing guitar, age gap (20+ years), pining, miscommunication, alcohol use, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

A/N: I've been on a bit of a writing hiatus due to work and personal obligations, plus some fandom drama. but when the bug calls, the bug calls. I hope you guys enjoy and remember to like and reblog! <3

“God I wish I had her tits.” You bemoaned, raking through an old magazine. You found it with a film of dust in the safety hideout you had all primarily used when patrolling and you just couldn’t keep your eyes away from it.

“Way to keep your eye on what’s important.” Your watch partner, Joel, deadpanned while surveying the area.

“It’s my break time so no judgment, old man.” You looked up at him from the couch you were sitting on. The door was open to let in the cool fall air and so you could converse with Joel. “I didn’t say anything when you brought your guee-tar on our last watch together.”

"Very funny." Joel drawled. "But I don't seem to recall you complainin' much when I played "Blackbird"."

You huffed, a little smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you turned the page. "That's because it's a good song."

He grinned to himself, looking out the window again. "It sure is."

You two fell into a comfortable silence while you continued to read your magazine. That was the best part about patrol days with Joel, he was a great listener and you felt comfortable confiding in him.

When he had originally shown back up to Jackson with his kind-of-daughter Ellie, nobody had really known what to make of him. You'd heard stories from your community's leader Maria since she was married to his brother, Tommy, but she had never actually met him until they had stumbled upon the commune for the first time. As far as Tommy's advice on what to make of him? "Give him some space but make sure you get to know him. He's not as bad as he might come across."

You hadn't understood at the time what he meant by that but after spending more time with him around the town you had started to figure him out. For instance, he was a great listener, a hard worker, and had a very dry sense of humor. Also, he was incredibly handsome in a rough-around-the-edges type of way. You two had fallen into a comfortable friendship whenever you'd seen each other around or had to patrol together. In the world before the outbreak, you couldn't have imagined being friendly with a man twenty years your senior. But that was the world before the outbreak, you thought, smiling a bit to yourself.

"You got something good there, darlin'?"

You glanced up at him, your heart jumping at the sudden noise after the quiet for the past half hour. You could feel a blush crawling up your neck.

"Uh, not really." You flipped the page, trying to play it cool. "I just like to look at the models and dream."

Joel turned his head to look at you, one brow raised. "Dream, huh?"

"Yup. I mean look at these bright fabrics and patterns. Can you imagine having a wardrobe with any of these colors in it?" You held up the page you were on, showing Joel the vibrant pink dress the model was wearing. It was a halter top with tight jeans and a flare at the end and the woman's long, dark hair cascaded down her shoulders. The image made you ache for a world that was long gone.

"God, I would kill for those jeans." You moaned.

"They're called bell bottoms." Joel corrected you.

You sat up, your mouth dropping open. "How did you know that?!"

He smirked at you, returning his gaze out the window. "I wasn't always an old man, ya know. I used to wear them back in the day."

"No shit?"

"No shit." He confirmed, chuckling a bit. "I was about ten when I wore 'em but those were the style back in the day. I think I had a pair in green."

You stared at him in amazement. "Can you imagine that? Green bell bottoms?"

Joel's face turned into a grimace. "More of my momma's fashion choice for Tommy and me."

You smiled fondly. "If I had a pair like these I'd stich them up and wear them out to the bar. I can't believe they made things like this."

Besides patrolling, you had also used your skills in the commune with clothing and it was no secret which one you preferred. You loved taking old, worn, and ragged pieces of clothing and fixing them up to give them a new life. The thought of being able to take something that was broken and give it new meaning and purpose was exciting and thrilling.

"You've got quite a talent, y'know. Those clothes you make look like you took them right outta the magazine." Joel said, glancing over at you. "You should be proud of yourself."

You smiled at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thanks, Joel. It's nice of you to say."

"Well, it's the truth."

The sound of a twig snapping approaching made the both of you jump. You sprung up and grabbed your gun. Joel was already at the door, looking out the window.

"What is it?" You asked, your hand steady on the gun.

"It's a damn deer." He said, shaking his head.

"Thank god." You sighed. You placed your gun down and joined him at the window, looking out to see the animal. The deer was grazing and seemed unconcerned about the two of you. You watched it move with a sense of tranquility and ease.

"You scared?"

You glanced up at him. His brow was creased and his lips were drawn. You realized this was the first time you'd ever been this close to Joel Miller. You took a moment to study his features. At first glance, his eyes, dark and deep, are the most captivating. They have the kind of depth that has his entire story - joy, sorrow, and everything in between. You've seen them twinkle with mischief specifically with Tommy and Ellie, and cold and impenetrable when talking to someone he doesn't particularly like.

He's got the faintest scars, a reminder of the life he lived before Jackson, and a smattering of freckles on his chest that are barely visible. You can see the fine wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes and wonder how many times he's smiled in his lifetime and how many more smiles you could give him.

He calls your name. You shake your head, breaking yourself out of the fantasy. "No. Should I be?"

"Nah. Not with me here." He smiled.

Your stomach clenched, and you felt heat creep up the back of your neck. He kept his eyes on you, searching for a reaction.

"We should probably finish our watch." You said, tearing yourself away from the moment.

Joel stood there, unmoving. He was studying you. A silly little girl with a stupid crush, you thought. You could feel his stare but ignored it, picking up your weapon and returning to the couch.

"We should." He finally agreed.

And as much as you wanted to focus, you couldn't help but continue to study Joel when your nose wasn't in the magazine.

---------------

Joel should've known you weren't interested.

You were young, beautiful, talented, and easy-going. Even from the first day he was back in Jackson he could see the way people were drawn to you. When you walked up and talked to him for the first time he was surprised there were still people out there that were still so friendly and warm. He was so used to being the suspicious asshole, the guy who always had a plan and a reason for being, but not with you. You'd just come up and started chatting him up like he was one of your good friends, expecting nothing in return.

That's the thing about you that's always amazed him. You don't expect anything. He doesn't have to go out of his way to prove his worth to you or show you what a good man he can be. You just trust him.

When the two of you got closer than you ever had on that afternoon patrol, Joel felt a stirring in his gut he hadn't felt since Tess. The tightness in his pants was a sign, too. An unfortunate sign at the time you were supposed to be patrolling for clickers but a sign nonetheless. He'd noticed the way you'd looked at him as you watched the deer. He wasn't that old, yet. He could still recognize a spark when he saw it.

But he also saw the way other men in town looked at you. Men closer to your age, men with more to offer. Men without all the baggage and darkness and secrets. Men who could treat you right.

So, he buried the spark and kept you as his friend. It was better that way.

------------------

"Look alive, you old fucker." Tommy nudged Joel's arm, walking up to the abandoned house. They were doing a scouting mission in the outskirts of Jackson. There had been a small group of raiders spotted the night before by a patrol.

"I'm more than alive. I'm kicking your ass."

Tommy rolled his eyes, smiling. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

They both pulled out their guns, ready to clear the place.

"You ready?" Tommy whispered, nodding towards the door.

"Yep." Joel responded, grabbing the doorknob and opening it.

It was a pretty standard scene for a raider's camp. There were blood splatters on the floor, bullet casings, and empty cans everywhere. Joel had seen it many times before and he was certain Tommy had too.

"It's like a fucking pigsty." Tommy remarked, walking towards the stairs.

"No kiddin'." Joel responded, looking around. "I don't think anyone's here."

"Let's check the upstairs and then head home. I wanna tell Maria about this."

They checked each room upstairs. Most of the bedrooms were empty, except for one. The last room they had to check had the door locked.

"What's this?" Tommy said.

"Let's break it open." Joel suggested.

"No. We'll try to pick the lock."

"Fine." Joel said, crouching down and grabbing Ellie's bobby pin he always carried. "This won't take long."

Joel inserted the bobby pin into the keyhole, moving it around to jiggle the mechanism inside. After a minute or two he opened the door.

"Well, that's not what I was expectin'." Joel said.

"Were you expectin' blood and guts?" Tommy responded, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, pretty much."

The brothers surveyed the bedroom. There was dust swirling in the air and a thick layer on every surface. It looked like the room had been abandoned for a while. A queen sized bed sat against the wall with a nightstand beside it. A dresser and a full length mirror were in the corner.

"We should still check everything out, just in case." Tommy motioned Joel into the room.

They searched the area and found nothing but the normal. They were almost done when Tommy found the closet.

"What do we have here?" He said, pulling the doors open.

"Just some clothes." Joel said.

"Looks like we've got a few treasures. What's that?" Tommy pointed at the back of the closet.

Joel pushed some clothes aside and a pair of jeans with a flair at the bottom fell to the ground. "Bell bottoms."

"Well, I'll be." Tommy smiled. "Do you remember these things?"

"Yeah." Joel replied, immediately remembering your conversation.

"What're those doing all the way out here?"

"Probably left behind by the original owners." Joel mused. Without hesitation, he grabbed the pants and tucked them under his arm.

Tommy turned and looked at him, his brow furrowing. "What're you doin' with those?"

"Gonna bring 'em home."

"To who?" Tommy had a shit-eating grin on his face. "Last time I checked those ain't really Ellie's style. I could think of someone who might be able to fix those up, though."

Joel's gaze shot to his brother. He glared at him. "Don't you dare."

Tommy raised his hands, surrendering. "All right, all right. I won't say a word. But I'm sure she'll love 'em. You could bring her a goddamn necklace full of teeth and she'd love it because it's from you."

Joel's heart raced at the implication. "What're you talkin' about?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Joel. Let's just get outta here so you can give her the goddamn pants."

------------------

Joel stood outside of the door to your house, the bell bottoms neatly folded in his hand. He could hear you rustling around inside and was nervous to knock.

"You can do this, old man." He told himself.

He knocked on the door, a quick rapping sound, and stepped back.

A second later, the door opened, and his face dropped. You hadn't answered the door. Instead, it was Nick, a tall, handsome young man who works at the stables. He had the kind of face that Joel used to see in cheesy teen movies he would bring Sarah to see. He had a strong jawline, sandy blonde hair, and broad shoulders. He looked at Joel and then down to the pants.

"Can I help you, Mr. Miller?"

Mr. Miller. Jesus Christ.

"Uh...." Christ and he couldn't even find his words. "I came by to uh..."

"Joel?" Your voice cut through his thoughts. He could see the confusion on Nick's face when you walked up. You smiled at Joel warmly, like a ray of sunshine. "Hi."

"Hey, darlin'." Joel smiled, his nerves disappearing.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just bringing these by." He said, holding out the pants to you. "I, uh, found 'em and thought maybe you could work some of your magic."

Your face lit up. "These are bell bottoms! Are you serious? Where did you find these?"

Joel could feel the smirk tugging at his lips. "Out and about. Tommy and I cleared a place the other day and found 'em."

"Joel, this is incredible!" You looked at him, your face shining with excitement as you went in to hug him. He was frozen, the warmth and scent of your body enveloping him. "I can't wait to get started."

"I'm glad you're happy."

You pulled away, giving him a quick smile before turning back to Nick. Joel could see his face drop a bit, and his stomach tightened.

"You can keep them here and work on them tomorrow. We've got a dinner date tonight." Nick said, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. Your eyes remained on Joel, though and your hands stayed at your sides.

Joel's chest ached. You were going on a date. With Nick. A boy, not a man. And not him.

"I, uh, don't want to hold ya'll up." Joel said, taking a step back. "Enjoy your night."

"Thanks, Joel." You said. He could feel you studying his face.

"Yes, thank you, sir." Nick added.

Joel nodded, turned, and walked away.

------------------

"....and then nobody else could catch that thing but there I was, deep into the lake with that fucking fish." Nick said, taking another sip of his drink. "I had no idea how I was gonna catch it but I couldn't let it go. So, I just dove in after it."

Nick was going on and on about some story that you couldn't even remember how it was brought up In the first place. You just knew Nick liked to talk about himself. A lot.

A lot of girls in Jackson had liked Nick. He was young, handsome, charming, and worked hard. He had the potential to be a catch for any single woman, but that didn't mean he was yours.

But then he showed up on your doorstep earlier that day with a charming smile and asked to come In. He'd told you he was interested in you and wanted to get to know you better. You were hesitant, especially considering the feelings you had for someone else, but you'd also remembered what had happened on your last patrol with Joel. You knew you couldn't compare with an older, sophisticated woman that might come his way one day. So, you accepted. What's the point in waiting on a fantasy?

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom when you'd heard someone knock on your door and Nick open it. You were annoyed at the immediate audacity he had to open your door without asking but then heard a familiar voice. Joel's.

You rushed out of the bathroom to see him standing there with fabric on his arm.

"These are bell bottoms!" You'd said excitedly. "Are you serious?"

And when you went to hug him, his body was tense and frozen. But the smell of him, a mix of pine and tobacco, filled your nostrils. And for a brief moment you'd imagined yourself pressed against his chest and kissing him.

That feeling only intensified when he looked at you. His face was a mixture of pain and jealousy and you realized that maybe he had felt something for you, too. But it was too late. He'd turned away and left.

It was the sweetest gesture and you couldn't even properly thank him because Nick had interrupted and ended the conversation about your date. You hated the way he slid his hand around your waist, it was such a gross power move. He acted like he owned you before he had even bothered to take you to dinner.

You tried to stay present with Nick but he wasn't making it easy. He had barely asked you about yourself, but you also were guilty of not engaging much.

"What do you think, doll?"

"What?" You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up at him. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"About the lake? The fish? The dive?"

"Oh." You'd said, a wave of relief coming over you. "Wow, that's a crazy story. I'm sure the whole lake was shocked."

"They sure were." He laughed.

You forced a smile, looking down at your half-eaten meal.

"You know, I think you're the most beautiful girl in Jackson...." Nick started as your eyes started to wander across the room. You kept scanning for Joel to see if he was coming to have dinner in the dining room but he wasn't there.

You kept looking around until you saw Ellie, she was saying something to Dina and laughing and then heading out.

"Ellie!" You called out. She turned around and smiled, walking over.

"Hey! What's up?" You looked at the plates she had wrapped up and her heart sank.

"Just saying hi. I see you're wearing the flannel I fixed up." You pointed out.

"Yep, I love it." Ellie smiled, holding her arms out to showcase it. "Thanks again. Joel was happy you helped."

"Where is he, by the way?" You tried to act as nonchalant as possible but you heard Nick scoff.

"He's at home, actually. He wasn't feeling too well so I'm gonna drop him off some food before I come back to hang with Dina and Jesse."

You frowned. "Oh."

"If you'll both excuse me, I gotta use the John." Nick said, standing up. Not even remotely pretending he was interested in the conversation.

"He seems like a keeper." Ellie deadpanned.

"The kind of boy you bring home to your mother." You rolled your eyes, and she snickered.

"Is there a reason you're asking about Joel?" Ellie inspected you. For someone who was so young, she had a knack on picking up on things like that. And she had absolutely no filter about it.

"No." You shrugged. "He was just at my place earlier and gave me some bell bottoms. I just wanted to check on him."

"Ooooh." Ellie's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Stop." You said, glaring at her.

She turned her hands up in defense. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But all I'm gonna say is this, if you wanna check on him I don't think he's going anywhere all night and I'm sure he'd appreciate some company. Especially your company."

"Thanks, El." You beamed at her.

"Anytime. Enjoy the rest of your date."

You smiled, watching her leave the dining room.

Your stomach was still in knots and your nerves were going haywire, but you had made up your mind. You were going to visit Joel.

When you got up to talk to Nick and you saw him leaning down on another table to talk to another girl, It was clear he had made up his mind too.

-----------------

Joel strummed his guitar on the front porch, a glass of whiskey sitting beside him. His leftover plate from Ellie was next to him.

He had decided to eat at home instead of eating in the dining room because he couldn't deal with the embarrassment of seeing you again, especially across the table from another man.

So, he ate and played his guitar and drank his whiskey.

It was starting to get dark, and the stars were becoming visible. Joel was trying to focus on the stars instead of thinking about you. But it was hard, especially when he could hear the laughter and conversations going on in town.

He picked his guitar back up and started to strum.

Bell bottom blues, you made me cry

I don't want to lose this feeling

And if I could choose a place to die

It would be in your arms

He continued to sing, closing his eyes and focusing on the song.

I don't want to fade away

Give me one more day, please

I don't want to fade away

In your heart I want to stay

"Nice song."

Joel straightened up and peered out into the darkness. He saw you walking up towards his porch, a shy smile on your face.

"Didn't mean to interrupt." You said, climbing the stairs. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked, even in the dim light. You had your hair down and a thin sweater covering a flowy dress. He could make out the shape of your body and the curves of your breasts, and the way the dress fell at your hips. He cursed himself for noticing and then cursed the fact that his cock stirred when he did.

"You're not." He said, standing up and putting his guitar down. "How was your date?"

You sat down next to him, taking a sip of his whiskey while rolling your eyes.

"Well, he talked a lot. I talked a little. He was rude and didn't ask about me. And I was really distracted."

Joel grunted in acknowledgment and continued to strum as the two of you fell into a warm silence.

"What's the song you're playing?" You asked.

Joel took a deep sigh. He knew once he told you, it was over. He couldn't lie to you.

But fuck It, he'd had some whiskey and it was now or never.

"The song is called 'Bell Bottom Blues', actually."

"Interesting." You mused, leaning back in your chair. "What's the song about?"

Joel stopped strumming. He looked at you, and you were staring at him.

"It's about a guy who has this woman. He knows that they could be great together. She makes him feel happy and good, and everything that a man wants. But the problem is, she doesn't want him."

"Well, that's depressing as shit."

"Yeah." He chuckled, his heart heavy. "It's depressing, but it's also true."

"So, she doesn't love him."

"Right."

"But why doesn't she love him?"

"Because he's old. He's not her type. And he's just a grumpy sonofabitch."

"Who wrote this song?"

"Eric Clapton."

"Well, did this Eric Clapton guy know he wasn't her type or did he just assume she thought he was a grumpy sonofabitch?"

"He assumed."

"Okay. So, maybe the girl is just confused."

"Or maybe she's just not attracted to him."

"I don't know about that. I'd be attracted to a man like that. If he was honest with me and treated me right. That's the important part."

"Yeah, I guess so." Joel replied, his heart racing.

"You guess so? You're an interesting man, Joel Miller."

"I've been told." He smirked, taking another sip of his whiskey. "So, why did you come here?"

You stared at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, I came here to properly thank you but now that I'm here I think I'll just drink some more of your whiskey and listen to you play more about how wrong this Eric Clapton is."

Joel laughed. He looked at you and saw the warmth radiating from your face. He couldn't believe his luck.

"Whatever the lady wants."

"The lady does indeed want." You beamed, and Joel got up and opened the door inside, leading you in.

"All right, darlin', come on in."

--------------------

After a few more glasses of whiskey, you were feeling warmer and relaxed.

Shyness had gone completely out of the window and you were curled up next to Joel, a blanket over the two of you as he strummed the guitar. You were close enough that his knee was against yours. You could feel the heat between you and it made your head spin.

You leaned into him and rested your head against his shoulder. He smelled so good, and the warmth of his body radiated onto yours.

"I'm glad I'm here." You whispered.

"I'm glad you're here, too."

"Joel...Do you think I'm like the girl in the song?"

Joel paused. He put the guitar down and turned to you.

"Well, first of all, you're not a girl." He whispered, his voice low in your ear. "You're a woman."

You closed your eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine.

"And secondly, I don't think you're anything like the girl in the song. At least, I hope not."

"I'm not." You assured him, your voice soft.

"Then why did you ask?"

"I just want to make sure you're not writing me off because of a song. I'm not some immature girl. I like the way I feel around you, and I'm not afraid to tell you anymore."

"Anymore, huh?" Joel asked. He moved his hand, placing it on your hand. You could feel the warmth and roughness of his palm. "So, if I were to kiss you, would that scare you away?"

"Not at all." You whispered, turning to him. Your eyes met and you could see the fire behind his. You'd seen that fire before, but never so close.

"Good."

Joel placed his hands on your cheeks and brought his lips to yours. Your body stung with excitement and you melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His beard tickled your skin, but the softness of his lips against yours made your body ache. You kissed the open patches in his beard you had daydreamed about kissing and ran your hands through his hair.

There was no chasteness in your kiss, thanks to the whiskey. Instead, you slipped your tongue into Joel's mouth as he groaned.

He pulled back for a moment, staring at you.

"This is not what I thought would happen." He admitted.

"Me neither." You grinned. "Should we stop? What time is Ellie coming home?"

"She's stayin' the night with Dina actually."

"Well, if that's the case. I should really thank you properly for that gift you showed up with."

Joel's eyes lit up.

"I'll accept whatever thank yous you have."

"I bet you will."

You straddled him, looking down at him as he kept his hands safely on your waist. You could tell he was restraining himself, always the gentleman, but you were tired of holding back how you felt.

You kissed him, hard, and bit his lip, eliciting a groan from him.

"Fuck." He growled, his fingers digging into your waist, pulling you down further onto his lap as you felt his hardening cock against you. You grinded down onto him, and fell into a rhythm while you kissed him and he gripped your waist tighter.

You removed your cardigan and Joel's hands instantly moved up your torso, toying with your straps.

"Joel...it's okay." You grabbed his hand and removed your dress straps with him. Your dress fell, revealing your breasts, and Joel's eyes darkened with an intensity he'd only saved for a hunt. You felt like his prey, and it only made you more aroused.

Joel's hand came up, gently cupping your breasts.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful." He murmured, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. The sensation shot right to your pussy and your hips continued to move in reaction.

You started to undo the buttons on his shirt, and he helped, throwing it to the side. You pulled him closer, feeling his hot chest against yours, his muscles tense and his arms around you. You kissed his neck, and his collarbone, and then kissed his chest.

You could hear his heavy breathing as you trailed your hands down his torso and his cock strained against his jeans.

"Joel." You whispered, moving off him to kneel in front of him.

"You don't have to." He said, looking at you with a pained expression. You could tell he was still trying to be a gentleman and hold back, but you were done holding back with how much you wanted him.

"I want to. I want you." You said as you slipped his jeans off. His erection was prominent through his boxers and you could see the wetness at the tip of his cock.

Joel let out a soft groan, watching you take off his boxers. His cock sprang free, and he hissed as the cool air hit him.

You had been guilty of spending nights thinking about what Joel Miller would feel like on top of you, inside you and in your mouth. But nothing could prepare you for the real thing.

His cock was thick, a beautiful length with a slight curve. Precum was leaking from his tip, and you wrapped your hands around his base, stroking him up and down.

"Jesus." Joel groaned. You felt his hand reach out, gently grabbing the back of your head and guiding you closer. You licked the precum off his tip and he moaned.

You licked down his length and then took his cock into your mouth. Joel's breath caught, and his fingers tightened in your hair.

"That feels so good." He said, his voice gravelly and low. You took more of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head and hollowing out your cheeks. Joel's hand pushed down a little harder and he let out a moan.

"Am I bein' too rough?" Joel asked with concern.

You looked up at him with full eye contact, your pupils blown. You started to ease his cock further into your mouth until you could feel his tip at your throat. You stayed there, and then started to move slowly up and down, the pressure from your tongue making Joel gasp.

"Jesus Christ, girl." He whispered, and then he started to push his hips upward, meeting you as you bobbed on his cock. His thrusts became faster, and his breath caught in his throat. You could tell he was getting close and you wanted nothing more than to feel him lose control in your mouth.

Suddenly, Joel's hand left the back of your head, and his cock left your mouth. You looked up at him with a dazed expression and watched as he stood up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin' is wrong." He growled. "Take off your dress and get on the couch."

You got up and slowly peeled off the rest of your clothes, his eyes never left your body. You saw his chest rise and fall with each breath as the two of you stood for a moment, studying each other's naked bodies.

Joel stepped forward and kissed you, hard. His tongue found yours and you tangled together, tasting each other. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer to him, his cock pushing against you.

"Get on the couch, baby." He ordered, his voice gruff. "Let me fuck you."

You lay down on the couch, spreading your legs. You had been dripping wet since you'd first straddled him, and now, it was dripping down your thighs and you couldn't help but run your fingers through it.

"Fuck. You are so goddamn beautiful." He said, his voice a low grunt. He knelt down and took a finger, running it through your wetness and then pushing it inside of you.

You gasped, the sensation of his thick finger hitting you differently than your own. He pushed a second finger inside of you, feeling an overwhelming stretch.

"You're so fuckin' tight. I gotta make sure you can take me." He said, pushing his fingers deeper inside you and curling them up. You gasped, arching your back as his fingers hit a spot inside of you that you can't normally reach.

You bucked your hips towards him. "I used to dream about what your fingers would feel like inside of me."

"Is that right, baby?" Joel asked. He added a third finger and the pressure was almost unbearable, he moved at a faster pace and the sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of your wetness were filling the room.

"I'm so close." You whined, bucking your hips against him. But he could feel it, he could feel your tightness clenching around his fingers.

He positioned himself quickly to lean in and suck on your clit. It was gentle, and his beard brushed against the skin around it. It was the final thing to send you over the edge, and you came hard.

"Joel." You moaned as you reached your climax, arching your back and riding his fingers. You could feel the wave of pleasure rolling over you as you gripped his hair. He slowed his pace and then pulled his fingers out, wiping his face.

"Did I do okay?" He asked, looking at you, and you saw the softness behind his eyes.

"You did better than okay. Take me to your bedroom?"

Joel nodded, picking you up and carrying you upstairs.

-------------------------

Joel laid you down gently on his bed and stood, looking down at you, stroking his cock.

He climbed on top of you and leaned down to kiss you. You could feel his hard cock against your stomach.

"Are you ready, darlin'?" He whispered in your ear, nibbling your lobe.

"Mmm, please." You murmured, lifting your hips towards him.

Joel grabbed his cock and rubbed his head along your wetness. He pushed it inside of you, slowly, and groaned.

"Fuck, you're tight." He muttered, his body stiffening. He eased himself in further, the stretch of his cock was intense, but the feeling of fullness was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

You felt him start to move his hips and you arched your back, taking him deeper as you opened your legs wider.

You could feel him deep inside you, hitting that same spot he'd touched earlier. Your hips bucked against his and the sound of the slapping of his hips against yours echoed in the room.

He was breathing heavily and his eyes were half-closed.

"You're so tight. Jesus Christ, you feel so good." He moaned. "Like you were meant to take my cock."

"I want it all." You whimpered, grabbing his ass to pull him closer. "I want it deep."

"God damn, baby." Joel grabbed your legs and placed them over his shoulders, giving him a better angle to thrust deeper. He slammed into you and the feeling of him against the back of your walls and the way his pubic bone pressed against your clit made you gasp.

"You wanted it deep like this?" He growled, his grip on your thighs tightening, the slapping of your skin and your moans getting louder.

"Yes." You gasped, feeling yourself reaching another climax. "Oh fuck, I'm cumming again."

You felt your walls tighten around his cock, and he moved down to press his thumb on your clit. He pressed and swirled his thumb against you, and the sensation was overwhelming. You came hard, moaning and writhing beneath him.

He slowed his thrusts as you rode out your orgasm.

"Fuck, I can feel you cummin' all over my cock." He murmured, his voice low. "It feels so fuckin' good. It feels so fuckin' good, darlin'. You're gonna make me cum."

His thrusts were becoming sloppy and frantic, and his breathing was coming faster. You were so sensitive and each thrust made your body twitch.

Neither of you had said it but you had both had the desire to have him cum inside you. You wanted to feel all of him and the thought of him filling you with his cum while you looked like a pornstar underneath him turned Joel on more than he'd like to admit.

"Cum in me." You pleaded, and that was enough. Joel's head fell back and he moaned, his body twitching.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He said, slowing his thrusts as his cum dripped down his cock and into you. You could feel him cumming, his cum hot and thick inside of you.

He stayed still for a few moments, the room filled with the sound of the two of you catching your breaths. Then he slowly pulled out, watching as his cum mixed with yours, dripping out of you and onto his sheets.

In one final move, he took two fingers and took your dripping cum to thrust it back inside of you.

You watched him, dazed and exhausted. He got up, panting and dazed and left the room for a few moments. When he returned, he had your clothes in one hand, and a towel and a glass of water in the other.

He placed your clothes on the floor and handed you the water. You gulped it down while he cleaned you off. You winced a bit, feeling the warm washcloth between your legs and Joel looked up at you with concern.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, his voice low.

"Not in a bad way." You grinned.

Joel smirked and lay down next to you, pulling the blanket over the two of you. He put an arm around you and pulled you into him.

You rested your head on his chest and ran your fingers along the grooves of his muscles.

"I think this was a better gift than the bell bottoms." You joked.

Joel laughed and kissed the top of your head.

"I don't know, I did go through a raider camp for those jeans. That was pretty heroic and dangerous."

"Yes, Joel Miller, you are a hero in the name of fashion." You yawned, nestling into him. You could hear the steady beating of his heart and felt his chest rising and falling with his breathing.

You closed your eyes and were starting to drift off when Joel's voice brought you back.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for comin' over and doing somethin' I was too chicken shit on doing for a long time."

You smiled.

"Don't worry, I'm here to do the things we're both scared to do. You just have to promise to keep the whiskey and the bell bottoms comin'."

"It's a deal." Joel kissed your head again and pulled you in closer.

You drifted off to sleep, content and safe in Joel's arms. Finally feeling the relief and acceptance of what you had tried to ignore for so long.

And the feeling of Joel's arms around you felt more like home than you could ever imagine.

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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formosusiniquis · 1 year

Text

y'know like barbie

ao3

It's Erica who gives him the idea, incidentally. Though she carries herself with a maturity that far surpasses the boys most days and though she's been through multiple life altering events, she does continue to only be eleven. Which is, it turns out, prime babysitting age.

The Sinclairs are going out of town overnight, it's their anniversary -- 18 blissful years, since our marriage can vote we thought we deserved a night away -- and they don't want Erica to spend the night home alone.

Enter Steve, who the Sinclairs trust with their children and who is inexplicably the only person Erica would accept staying the night with her. Steve honestly didn't believe it even as Mrs. Sinclair was saying it. But he smiles and nods, looks over the emergency numbers on the fridge when they're pointed to, nods at the money on the counter for food that he probably won't take, and waves as they walk out the door promising that he and Erica will be fine for the night and not to worry.

It's only when their car is out of the driveway and the door is shut that Steve realizes he isn't really a babysitter. He is a keep children alive while in a dangerous situation and when the situation is over drive them around because you feel bad that their childhoods have been marred by trauma-er which doesn't have quite the same ring as babysitter, and it's a lot harder to say with that rude tone the boys have been favoring. He also realizes that he's never actually dealt with children, or not girl children. The boys had all been older than Erica, when he had started keeping them alive. Max was definitely basically a teenager when he started really dealing with her; and she was usually okay to do what the boys wanted to do, like go to the arcade. Hopper didn't really trust him with El and that was fine, he wasn't sure he trusted himself with El either.

It put him in an awkward spot now though. Staring at Erica in her kitchen, a little afraid to ask the question on the front of his mind which was "What now?"

So he asks the second question on his mind, "What do you want to do that isn't eat ice cream all night?"

Say what you will about Steve Harrington, and a lot has been said, but he always keeps his promises and he always brings a pint of ice-cream for Erica to have when he comes over to the Sinclair house. Tonight he brought three, all different weird flavors he thought she'd like to try.

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right.

It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be.

"Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game."

Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it."

He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out."

"Famous last words."

He follows her to her bedroom, waiting outside the doorway to let her space stay private until he's told to come in. A clear plastic tub slides out from under her bed, out of sight but easily accessible and when the lid pops off he gets why. Rows of Barbies stacked neatly on top of each other, a mass grave for childhood. Steve has a stuffed bear, fur rubbed off of one ear, tucked up on the shelf of his closet that also got put away sooner than he would have chosen to, when it was too babyish.

“Alright, so who is the, like, elven warrior.”

“That’s not how you play Barbies.”

It’s snapped so fast that he thinks it embarasses her. He tactfully avoids eye contact, pulling out a doll with blonde hair snipped into a professional, if uneven, bob and a green skirt set. She's missing a shoe. “Then how do I play Barbies?”

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.”

“Right, of course.” This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?”

“Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.”

“Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.”

Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.”

“And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.”

“Right.”

So maybe it's more accurate to say that Dustin actually starts it.

Dustin with the shittiest attitude this side of the Ohio, something Robin blames him for.

“Like father, like son.”

“Dustin doesn’t even know his dad.”

“I mean you and Eddie, dingus.”

“I am not that kid's dad. A brotherly figure at best, strong male role model more likely.”

“He’s a bitch because you are, Steve. Maybe if your and Eddie’s love language wasn’t being as bitchy as possible it wouldn’t have rubbed off on your kid.”

“Please don’t put Dustin and rubbing off in the same paragraph let alone the same thought wave.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.”

“Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.”

Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about.

It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-”

See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit.

“I know, like Barbie.”

That shuts Dustin up real quick.

“N- no, not like Barbie! Barbie is some girl's toy.”

“Excuse me?” Robin, who told Steve that she would not help him parent his children on work days or any other day ending in y had remembered that Martes doesn’t have one and her shift was almost over. “What does that mean, exactly, a girl’s toy?”

“And,” Steve adds, because he can and because Eddie made him drive him to fucking Bloomington because he was fixated on time travel and needed access to some science journal that only existed at Indiana U apparently, “Barbie is on a research team looking for the Higgs particle so she can start figuring out time travel.”

The bell chiming as Dustin leaves has never sounded sweeter.

He’ll definitely end up taking the twerp to stupid Notre Dame.

The thing is that Steve thinks he’s never really stopped being a bitch.

He doesn’t want to stop. He likes being bitchy. It’s fun, when you’re doing it with people you like it’s pretty funny, and honestly he’s kinda like Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility, he’s only bitchy responsibly now.

And it’s actually perfectly responsible as an older brother type babysitter figure to correct the behavior of the younger siblings by being bitchy. If they don’t learn at home they’ll go out in the world thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, see Steve Harrington in his early high school days who talked to people like his father did.

So when Mike interrupts El with, “I’m not going to ask Steve, he probably doesn’t even know what a Pulitzer is either.”

He says, “Oh, yeah like Barbie won. Or Nancy will someday, probably. It’s a journalism award, Wheeler.”

And when Lucas corrects, “I don’t actually think you can win an award for comics. It’s still really great though, Will!”

“Barbie won the Kirby Award in 1985 for best artist, I’m sure Will is soon to follow.”

Or when Nancy tells Holly, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be something important instead?”

“You could be an actress and do something cool like go to space if you want, Hols, like Barbie.” And maybe he says it with a little more bitch than he should that time, but he’s seen the ballerinas in Nancy’s room, she didn’t always want to be an investigative journalist.

It gets to be second nature. When someone starts being shitty about something or to lighten the mood.

Erica doubts whether she should run for student council. It's her first step to being actual president, like Barbie.

Dustin makes a crack about Steve's possible future prospects when he butts in on a conversation between Steve and Robin. "I could do all three, I could be a counselor and a hair stylist and an engineer. Maybe I'll add EMT too, Barbie wouldn't stop at three, why should I?"

Or when Mike sneers at him, "What are you a cop?" All because Steve told him not to buy weed now that Eddie had stopped dealing.

"Ew, no, because you look like a fresh-faced little narc trying to be cool and you're gonna get ripped off."

"What so not like Barbie?"

"The Barbie world has achieved equality at a level that it doesn't need the cops." Eddie sometimes has to get high after a run in with Powell or Calahan who he still doesn't really trust after the spring. Steve has been treated to many a lecture on why the police were a waste of resources.

He lets Mike sit with that for a minute before he adds, "Like Barbie, I am very cool and know what it looks like when I'm being taken for a ride. If you're gonna get pot from someone other than Eddie, ask Hop where he used to get all of his shit."

It doesn't feel stupid, until El comes running into the cabin one afternoon that Steve has decided to join the rebuilding effort. It’s actually just him and Hop, who has started trying to quietly parent him, something he’s not entirely convinced isn’t revenge for telling Wheeler that Hop has smoked pot before. Steve is pretty sure El was crying when she came in, something he bumps up to a certainty when he sees how awkward Hop looks right now.

“You mind taking that kid? It’s been a long time since high school.” he rubs the back of his neck, Steve does appreciate that he has the decency to feel weird about asking. “If it’s anything outside of big brother shit I can take over.”

He does let himself get suckered by that big brother line.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place. “Hey Ellie, can I come in?”

She sits up, tear tracks plain on her face but no more are falling, and nods in that endearing, aggressively certain way she’s got. “Is everything okay?” He pauses and asks, “Was it Mike?” because he knows that’ll be the first thing Hopper asks when Steve comes back out.

“You are worse than Dad.”

“That stings, Ellie Bell.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling an already impressive will, “Lucas says it is okay to just want to be happy right now, but all they talk about is what they are going to do. Dustin is talking about going to admission early, Will talks about talking to Dad and Joyce about art school, Lucas worries about his sports and scholarships, and Mike talks about classes that count twice. I do not know what I want to be. I do not know why I have to be anything.”

“You guys have been through a lot. I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking time to just be a kid.”

“What if I never want to be something? What if I do not ever want to go to college?”

He’s made his way over to the bed with her, sits tentatively on the edge like he’s seen Joyce do before. “Then you don’t. You’ll probably have to get a job at some point, but that doesn’t have to be what you are. Lucas isn’t a landscaper just because he mows lawns in the summer.”

“You don’t think Dad would be upset?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would really make Hop mad. And you might change your mind. I've been out of school for almost two years and I’m only thinking about college now. Or you could go to college and change your mind about what you want to be. You could be a hundred things, you could be anything! Like Barbie.”

He feels like an idiot almost immediately. A jerk quickly after that. He’s made El’s genuine crisis part of his stupid running joke. But something settles in the room. The underlying tension, the thing that had the hair on the back of his neck raised. He realizes, now, that her powers had probably also been on edge.

"Like Barbie." She says it with a graven seriousness, like Steve's dumb little joke is a mantra now.

"Yeah, and you're a sophomore you don't have to have your whole life figured out right now. And don't take life advice from Henderson anyway, he thought it was a good idea to raise an Upside Down slug as a pet."

He mostly just used it to be a bitch though. Because it was fun. No, it was what he was good at. So good at it he didn't even have to try.

Because Steve had a plan to be bitchy. Specifically to Mike Wheeler who kept flirting with Steve’s boyfriend while taking advantage of his hospitality. Sure it was at their stupid Dungeons and Dragons game, and yeah Steve was the one who said they could host the game at his house now that Eddie had graduated. Yes, he knew Eddie didn't mean anything by it when he responded and usually didn't flirt back with the kids. But it was still the kind of behavior that had to be gently corrected, for Mike's sake because if he didn't stop things were going to get drastic.

His initial plan is already in action. He encouraged El to come along to watch the Party play. It was, admittedly, a half hearted plan. Wheeler got so awkward anytime El was around he mostly just hoped that would keep him from trying anything.

It isn't. Eddie starts to describe a new character, "Blonde and statuesque, she has a long bow in hand and delicate elven features."

And even though El is sitting a few feet from him Mike perks up the way he always does when there's a new NPC to flirt with. He is going to have to have a talk with Eddie about letting the kid try out a bard.

He does at least have one other tool in his belt. "Oh, like Barbie."

Steve knew what he'd get as he said it. A groan from Dustin, who falls for this as being sincere about as often as he falls for the dumb-dumbs and dipshits line -- which is everytime for the record. Will and Lucas keep their laughs small, enough that they're covered by Erica's snort. The original Hellfire crew mostly looks confused, it's becoming less and less their default as they warm up to the Steve he is rather than the Steve they thought they remembered; but he likes to keep them on their toes.

Eddie is charmed. He can tell. Sees him duck his head behind his screen and his binders, trying to preserve the stern and scary dungeon master image. That apparently isn't possible if you're smiling like an idiot at your stupid boyfriend, so he's been told.

And Mike has maybe been on the wrong end of the joke a few more times than everyone else. He turns an interesting shade of red, two parts anger and one part embarrassed is Steve's guess. The foot stomp is unexpected, but he expects its been passed down the Wheeler line as a shared signal of outrage. "Not like Barbie, this isn't some stupid kids game. She's probably a hot, wisened archer ready to reward us for helping her village, not some stupid doll that you're obsessed with."

Eddie's blank face with the twitchy eyes has fallen into place when he sits back up from behind his screen. His things aren't going according to plan, panicked face. "I think that's a good place to end things this week. Wheeler, Henderson, Jeff, and Lady Applejack you've all cleared enough experience to level right? Do that before next week."

Steve knows enough to keep his mouth shut while everyone packs up to leave. Sends a small smile to Erica on her way out to the family minivan, he knows she struggles a little being the youngest at the table even if she won't say it. He has to imagine that the outburst had stung a bit.

"You gotta be nicer to little Wheeler." Eddie chides once everyone is gone, halfhearted at best when he's telling Steve off into the soft skin of his neck. When he feels the admonishment more than hears it.

"I'm not mean to Mike." He says on instinct, he does try not to be. "And he started it."

"Definitely think you started the Barbie thing, Sweetheart."

And well, yeah. "I Barbie all the kids equally."

Eddie hmms Steve can feel the vibration of it through his back and on his neck. Eddie is about to start something he better plan on finishing. "He asked Hop where he should get weed."

Oh. "I didn't think he'd actually do it!" And then, "Is that why he keeps flirting with you, revenge?"

"No, he's got a bunch of misplaced jealousy because Will and the girls think you're hot." He toys with the edge of Steve's shirt as he says it. Perpetually cold fingers brushing the clothes warmed skin beneath making him shiver.

"The girls don't think I'm hot."

He hums again, nips at the blush red skin at Steve's neck. "El used to, Max definitely has a taste for jock.

"That's not my fault, you let Mike play a bard." He wishes he didn't sound so desperate.

"Wanted to leave the Paladin spot open for you, baby."

"I'm starting to feel convinced, we could go upstairs and you could show me your character sheet."

The things he'll say to get laid.

"Don't think I can do that Stevie, smooth as a Ken doll down there. Could show you the actual character sheet though."

His back is cold as Eddie pulls away, smirking unrepentant as he lets Steve have the tiniest taste of his own medicine.

"Barbie has a very active sex life, actually." He's never been one not to double down. "Let me show you the fun we can have without getting your dick out."

He does leave it alone for a little while, even though he really, really doesn't want to. But despite what his friends, his fifth grade report card, and his mom might think; Steve is capable of keeping a hold of his worst impulses when he wants to.

So he lets opportunity pass him by.

He makes no comment about Barbie when Eddie talks about how John Carpenter is a film auteur. Not even when Dustin tries to define auteur for him. Incorrectly, but Robin comes to Steve's defense.

Barbie goes unmentioned, barely when an argument breaks out about Nobel prize winners, of all things. He thinks the kids argue more now than they ever have like it's the only way they have to get their bloodlust out now that the Upside Down was closed. He was quickly boxed out of the conversation, even if Erica kept sending him little glances over everyone's heads. (She'd let him have Peace Prize Barbie a couple weeks ago and maybe he was a little obsessed.)

Holly wants to be a vet now, a singing vet who is also on TV, but mostly a vet. She tells him all about it while he waits for Mike to find his shoes? Definitely not his quarters for the arcade, the day any of them bring those is the day Steve brings the nail bat back out. He’s one impulse purchase away from getting one of those little coin dispenser belts that the employees have -- Gareth just quit, maybe he still had his? Mike's frown is a little less general annoyance at Steve and a little more confusion when he's finally ready to leave and Barbie has gone unmentioned.

He almost breaks again when Eddie starts talking about sports. Or he starts talking about NASCAR which is close enough for Eddie, he has a surprising taste for racing for someone who never wanted to put his van on the starting line at parties. A woman led a Busch Series race for the first time, what a year '86. He's got no opinion on Barbie's ability to drive at all.

He could let a joke go. He could be nice. It wasn't so out of character that it needed this kind of attention.

Mike has forgiven him by the time the next session rolls around. Delayed two weeks after Eddie screamed so loud on stage that he couldn't speak for two days, and then again for Jeff's emergency appendectomy. Eddie has stopped leaving pointed gaps in conversation for Steve to fill with mention of Barbie, he has had his thinking face on instead which is good for Steve about as often as it isn't.

He leaves it alone. A little bit of non-life threatening surprise is good for the soul, or something. Listen, he’s made it this far by only asking questions when shit is about to get really, really bad and Eddie’s thinking face has only resulted in something bad once or twice -- and they probably should have spent more than a couple minutes negotiating that particular kink anyway.

When the kids start showing up and nothing has come from the thinking face, he assumes it was just for them anyway. He settles in to see whatever shit Eddie is going to do.

"From the ditch you pull a human man, a paladin. His plate is dirtied by his time on the ground but clearly gleams in its typical state. He's handsome, a square jaw and fluffy brown hair-"

"Ugh is this Steve? You already made us do a quest for him," Mike complains, maybe he hasn’t completely forgiven Steve for that last interruption.

Steve has, by his own count been the inspiration for at least three NPCs for this campaign: a white light faction rogue, Sol, that the party had to rescue from the dungeons of the nightmare King after he was caught sneaking into the bedrooms of the prince -- like it was Steve's fault that Wayne had super hearing; a young fighter from the gladiatorial combat ring who helped the party rescue a group of kidnapped children that were going to be used as bait in the next round of fights; and the most obvious Prince Stefan who sent the party on a quest to kill his betrothed a Duke called Thomas the Boarish and rescue his knight Rowen and beloved Bard Edwin -- it's not like he could unkiss Tommy, and he could be a dick but boarish was dramatic.

He was not this paladin, assuming Eddie was telling the truth about saving the Paladin he'd made for Steve.

"Cut the out of character chatter, Michael, before it starts counting in game. The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'"

"What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face.

"Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again.

"There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles.

"What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab.

"'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

Any time Eddie reveals lore shit there's always a bunch of people talking over top of each other. It always turns into the kind of mass blob of shouting that Steve has a hard time parsing out, especially these days. Eddie somehow manages to distinguish not only people but the things they're saying and keeps his cool enough to keep the story going.

"Roll your insight, Gareth. Jeff, with a 15 history check, you have heard some whisperings from your homeland about a newly ascended goddess but not a name. Dustin, you're not getting shit with a 5 don't even try that but my back story says shit with me. Will, pretty sure that's a cleric spell but I'll let you have it he's a Neutral Good alignment. An 18, shit, yeah Garebear he does seem to be telling the truth that is the deity he follows; but that isn't the whole truth, you know a lot of the newer pantheon have a colloquial name and a true name."

"I'm sorry," Lucas says, "we aren't familiar with your lady. What can you tell us about her? Why would she leave you there? And that's a 14 on persuasion before you even ask."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'"

"And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks.

"'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'"

"What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat.

"Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face.

"'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

#steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #and in 1996 when steve and eddie are expecting their first kid - a daughter #erica gifts them the barbie camper so steve has something while he waits for the real thing #listen you know that oh like barbie post with the steve speaking image below it #i saw that and this happened #i just wanted to try out a little steve and erica bonding #and it turned into steve being a bitchy big brother #steve and eddies love language is being dicks #but their secondary love language is not letting the bit die and i do believe that #so eddie had to take it up when steve set it down

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